Remedy
by njborba
Summary: Steve is spending the evening babysitting his niece when an unexpected visitor shows up at his door. Season 6 Spoilers!


Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

Note: This theory for Cath leaving initially sprang to mind after first learning she was in the CIA. It solidified a bit more after recently reading some upcoming spoilers. And it all really came together a few days ago when my mom was telling me about Aunt Deb dying. I still haven't seen any season 6 episodes, so I apologize if my details are not spot on. I do hope you will enjoy reading!

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 **Remedy**

By  
N. J. Borba

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"Okay, kiddo…" he tried to catch the little girl, "Come on, your mama said bath time before fun time."

"No, no, no bath!" the girl protested, giggling while expertly managing to dodge his feeble swipe at her arm.

Steve stood up straight, wondering why he was bothering to argue with a two-year-old. He was the adult, he needed to exude authority. "Joan," he tried a sterner voice with her, noticing the way the girl actually stopped and turned to look up at him, "Your mama is super excited to be going out tonight with some old friends. She deserves a night out, doesn't she?" he tried to reason with the toddler.

The girl's tiny nose scrunched for a moment as if she were contemplating the question, "Mama go," she spoke with a slight question to her tone.

He took the opportunity of her standing still to swoop in and scoop her up into his arms. "Yes, your mama is going out. But that means you get to spend the night with Uncle Steve, the coolest uncle in the world," he declared, pointing to his chest with a silly grin curling his lips.

Joan laughed and laid her head affectionately against his shoulder. Then she looked up at him with her big eyes, "No bath," she whispered.

He hesitated for a moment, ready to give her the world with that sweet-innocent look on her face. Then he inspected a little closer and spotted crusty orange stains on her t-shirt cuff and arm, the remains of steamed carrots from lunch. He also noticed the sand caked in her hair from their playtime on the beach. And he could definitely see the slightly sticky shave ice residue rimming her lips. "Yes, bath," Steve had to hold firm. "But then we get to have some more fun together. Mac and cheese for dinner and…"

Those words failed to pacify the girl and she squirmed and wiggled, in that especially annoying way toddlers did, until he had little choice but to put her down or risk dropping her.

Steve thought he could try reasoning with her again, but Joan shot across the room and ducked into the study in order to avoid his advances.

"Hmm, I wonder where little Joanie has gone?" Steve played her game as he watched the girl scramble beneath John McGarrett's old desk. "Could she be in the kitchen?" he kept up pretenses, listening to the soft giggles coming from beneath the sturdy wooden desk. "Or… maybe she went outside," Steve made a quick show of looking out the back door even though he could see her small bare feet sticking out from under the desk. And her laughter grew louder. "No, I think maybe… she's under the…" he sunk to his knees and faced her, "Desk!"

A sharp squeal of laughter filled the room. "Found me!" Joan declared.

He pulled her into his arms again and hoisted her up with him as he stood. "You're a silly goose," Steve teased the girl. He was about to mention bath time again when he noticed Joan had something clutched in her hands. It was a small 4x6 printed picture. Steve immediately recognized the photograph. In fact, he knew it had been down there under the desk; right where it had landed after he'd gotten upset one night and flung it across the room.

Joan let go easily when he reached for the object and took it from her. His heart constricted a little when he caught a glance of the picture; a couple caught unaware on the dance floor at Kono's wedding. The two of them were looking at one another, smiling and relaxed, seeming to not have a care in the world. Steve sighed, wondering again how everything had changed from perfect to disastrous in such a short span of time. One minute he'd been planning to propose, the next minute she'd walked out of his life again.

"Cat!" Joan's right index finger pointed to the woman in the picture. "Where Cat?" she looked up at Steve with inquisitive eyes.

He starred back at the girl with equal question behind his eyes. "Cat?" Steve asked, "Do you know who that is?" he pointed to the woman.

The girl nodded, "Cat," she repeated, taking the photo back into her little hands, "Cat with Aunty Deb?"

"What?" Steve was even more rattled by that question. His head shook, "No, Catherine isn't…" he hesitated to say the word _dead_. He wasn't sure what all Mary had told the girl about her great-aunt's passing. He wasn't even sure a two-year-old could comprehend death.

The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor caught his ear, mercifully diverting his attention.

Steve turned to see his sister standing in the living room, having exited the first floor room where she usually stayed during her visits. It had been her childhood room for many years. But, as he glanced at his baby sister now, he realized she was far from the child she'd once been. "Wow, you clean up nicely," he remarked, moving into the living room to greet her.

"What, you mean this old thing?" Mary teasingly winked at her brother, lightly skimming her hands along the soft green fabric of her dress. It was one of the many items Aunt Deb had bought for her during their shopping spree. She leaned in and gave Joan a quick kiss on the girl's cheek. Mary spotted the picture her daughter was holding and became curious, "What'd you find, baby?" she asked the girl. "Who's in that picture?"

"Cat," Joan pointed, "Unca," she moved her finger to Steve.

"That's right," Mary grinned, "She's pretty smart, isn't she?"

He gave a small nod, "Yeah, but how does she… she knows Catherine?"

"Sure she does," Mary said with a shrug as she took Joan from him. "I made her a photo album about a year ago that we look through almost every night before bed. Joan loves to see all the different pictures of our family and friends. There's some of mom and dad and us when we were kids, and several more from the last few years. I make sure to tell her who everyone is. Catherine, or," she shared a brief smile with her daughter, "Cat, as Joan likes to call her, is a very best-best friend of Uncle Steve. Isn't that right, baby girl?" she asked.

"Besta-besta," Joan replied.

Mary smiled at her daughter, "So smart," she kissed the girl again. Her eyes slid over to her brother, "Sorry," Mary said upon seeing the way he was glancing longingly at the photo in Joan's hand. She took it from the girl and handed it to Steve. "I can, uh… I could take all the pictures of Catherine out of the album if you want me to," Mary offered, "Joan really likes them, though. She likes saying Cat. I hope Catherine doesn't mind that she calls her that."

Steve tried to think of an answer for his sister, but he was still a bit confused. "Joan asked if Catherine was with Aunt Deb," he blurted out.

Mary's eyes narrowed in thought for a moment and then they widened with realization, "Oh, no," her head shook, "One of Joan's favorite pictures is of Catherine and Aunt Deb from Thanksgiving, when Joan was just a baby. Catherine is holding Joan and Joanie is pulling on Deb's ear. The three of them are laughing. It's a really great shot, one of my favs as well. I think it was Chin who took it and sent it to me," she explained. "No doubt that's what she was thinking. That Catherine and Aunt Deb are together like in the picture."

"Oh," his heart calmed a little, but still ached. "Keep the pictures," Steve insisted.

His sister smiled, kissing Joan again as she eyed her brother, "You sure about babysitting tonight? I can cancel," she offered.

"No, don't be silly," Steve snapped out of his strange mood. He placed the picture on the wine cabinet near the kitchen door and then took Joan from his sister, "We're going to take a bath," he nodded even as Joan shook her head, "Eat some yummy mac and cheese, and watch a movie." He glanced down at the coffee table and snatched up the DVD that was laying there, "This looks good," he said as he read the cover, "Frozen?" Steve turned the DVD over and read a little more. "About some sisters…" he smiled at Joan and then Mary.

Mary cracked up at the notion of him watching Frozen with Joan, but she gave an encouraging nod.

A horn honked from the driveway.

"That'll be Daryl and Meagan," Mary said as she click-clacked across the floor and grabbed her purse. She leaned in and kissed Joan again, "Be good."

"Be good," Joan echoed and smiled.

Steve laughed at the innocent mimicking of his niece. "I'll say the same, be good," he eyed his sister, "And have fun," Steve added.

"Have fun!" Joan exclaimed as she waved bye-bye to her mom.

Amazingly there were no separation tears as Joan realized her mom was gone. Steve even managed to bathe her without too many issues, although the floor and his shirt had gotten soaked in equal measure. They ate mac and cheese and green beans, even though the veggies didn't go down the girl's throat quite as easily as the pasta. Then they followed through on their plan to watch the movie. They were a half hour into it when Steve realized he was way more interested in the story than he'd anticipated.

That realization came about when the ring of his doorbell caused him to jolt in surprise.

"You expecting anyone?" he asked Joan, jokingly. Steve got up from the sofa and kissed her head, "Stay here, munchkin," he instructed, though he probably hadn't needed to say anything since the girl's eyes remained glued to the screen as he went to the door.

Steve flicked on the porch light; realizing he hadn't done that earlier.

He glanced out the small window in the door and felt an odd sensation wash over him.

It was an uncomfortable combination of confusion and anticipation, with just a little anger rolled in.

He flung the door open.

"Catherine?" Steve starred at the back of her head as he stepped outside.

She was at the edge of the porch, poised to leave, but the sound of his voice stopped her.

Catherine swallowed and bravely turned around.

Steve sucked in a concerned breath when she faced him. She was a little thinner than the last time he'd seen her, as she'd sat there on his porch and then walked away. Her eyes looked dull and tired, dark circles beneath them, her skin pale. He winced to see there was a bruise on her neck, another across her right eye. Her left arm was strung up in a sling and he could see the edge of a plaster cast poking out, surrounding her wrist and thumb.

He glanced over her shoulder and spotted the classic blue corvette that was parked out by the trellised entry.

"Hi," was all she said for a moment, feeling uncertain all over again. The feeling had first kicked in at the airport as she'd boarded a late night flight. She'd gotten in at mid-day local time and taken a cab to her storage unit. "All I have is what's in my car," she pointed over her shoulder. Her second bought of nervousness had come about as she'd opened the storage unit door and seen her car again – a shiny representation of her past life, the one she kept leaving and coming back to.

"Oh?" his brow formed a deep V.

"I slept all afternoon in it," Catherine spoke again, uncertain of the direction of her words, "Slept in the car, inside the storage unit. I left the storage unit door open a little for ventilation and…" she realized she was rambling, but that didn't stop her, "Then I packed up and ended my contract with the unit, but I didn't think too much past that. So I've just been, uh, wandering all evening. I have no place to stay and I… I'm not sure where I'll go next, but I knew I had to see you. To tell you…"

"Unca?"

Catherine felt her body's muscles constrict as she heard the female voice from inside the house.

She wanted to turn around and run down the steps, across the yard and into her waiting car – the only sanctuary she seemed to have left in the world.

Steve sighed softly, his eyes never leaving Catherine. Part of him had believed he'd never see her again after the way they'd left things. But now, actually seeing her again, nothing else really seemed to matter. Not even the fact that Joan was calling for him and Catherine appeared to look both embarrassed and a little pissed off by that fact. "Cath, are you…"

"Me thiwsty," Joan interrupted again, coming closer to tug at his hand.

Catherine almost laughed with relief to realize it hadn't been a woman's voice she'd just heard, but that of a little girl. Even the term 'unca' hadn't really registered. She'd been expecting a grown woman to appear, someone blonde. Every other woman she'd known Steve to date had been a shade of blonde. Catherine had been ready to face a tall woman with perfect skin and a winning smile. A woman who'd be hanging off him, wearing one of his shirts after a night together and asking if he liked butter or cream cheese on his bagel.

"Bagels?" she whispered to herself, shaking her head. It wasn't even morning.

She'd been ready to stand there and grudgingly meet the woman and realize he'd moved on. She'd been prepared to be okay with it because she'd left him. And she still couldn't blame him if that woman was there inside his house, ready to pop out and say she'd get Joan a drink while he took the time to tell his ex to get lost. Catherine tried to smile as all those scenarios drifted to mind, but she couldn't. She also tried to close her eyes and shrug off those wayward thoughts.

"You like peanut butter on your bagels," the words spilled out in a soft whisper from Catherine's lips.

With that said she spun around, walking down the stairs and along the stone path, slowly, but still very much racing toward the safety of her vehicle.

The trip back to her car felt like an eternity, an eternity in which she noticed that he didn't even bother to call after her.

It wasn't until her hand was on the car door handle that she realized why he hadn't called out to stop her.

He'd been too busy chasing after her while carrying a toddler.

Catherine felt his warm, strong hand pressed against her shoulder as she fumbled with the keys in her good hand.

"Cath, hang on…" he tried to get her to turn around, at the same time readjusting the little girl propped against his hip.

She did turn, but she couldn't quite face him. Instead her eyes had a mind of their own, glancing back up at the house as she pressed her back against the car. The house door was still hanging open, but no one was there. No woman. No _other_ woman. She was nowhere to be seen. "I'm sorry," Catherine managed, "I shouldn't have come here, I just wanted to…"

Steve starred at her a moment, "Do you have a concussion?" he finally asked, concern racing through his head the same way confusion had the day she'd left, "I do like peanut butter on my bagels. You might be the only person who knows that, but…" he studied her again, "Are you okay? I feel like…"

"Don't, please," Catherine preempted anything else he could try to say. She finally looked up at him, looked him in the eye. It made her stomach ache to see his concern, "Please, don't be nice. I left… I left you. You shouldn't be nice," she whispered, "And I never should've just showed up like this. You've probably moved on. I'm glad," she tried to smile again, but the motion fell short of genuine, "You deserve better than what I did, leaving with no real explanation. I'm sorry, Steve. I truly am sorry."

He stood there silently, his hand still pressed against Catherine's shoulder even though she'd turned. Joan remained curled against his side, silent as well.

"You look like hell," Steve finally said to her, not bothering to sugarcoat things for her sake. His fingers reached out to softly push a bit of stray hair behind her left ear.

"Thanks," she whispered, and for some reason her lips chose that moment to form a smile; a real smile. Catherine couldn't help loving him all the more for telling it like it was. "I feel like crap," she admitted, "Long flight… and sleeping in my car didn't help much. My arm is killing me."

"Come back to the house, Cath," he offered. "Please, I want you to."

"Cat!" Joan suddenly exclaimed, reaching her little right hand out to touch the woman's hair. "You huwt," the child said. "Me kiss, make bettew," she offered.

Steve was unbelievably touched by the child's concern, and he could see Catherine was as well. He could also see the tears welling in Catherine's eyes. "Mary shows her pictures of everyone… you," he explained, "She probably didn't recognize you right away because… because it's dark and… you're hurt."

Catherine reached out with her good hand and cupped the little girl's cheek. "You've gotten so big, Joan," she whispered. Her hand fell back to her side as she gulped past the emotional lump in her throat, "I need to go. I'll get a hotel room until I figure out my next move. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Catherine, don't go," Steve tried again, "You look tired and… I… we… there's a lot we should talk about. You didn't leave without an explanation; you went to help out in southern Asia, right? And now you're back. You're obviously here for a reason," he avoided saying he hoped that reason was him.

"I am," she mumbled, noticing the worried look that had sprouted upon his face again. "But, maybe I made a mistake, maybe it was all… and… I should really go," Catherine repeated, knowing that every second she stayed would make it so much harder to walk away.

"You don't have to go, Catherine," Steve insisted. "If you leave again…" his eyes pleaded with her, "I thought I'd be too upset to see you again. I thought I'd want to shut the door in your face because you hurt me when you left this last time. You really… you hurt me. But," Steve struggled a moment with his words, but for some reason he felt braver with Joan's comforting warmth wrapped up in his arms. "If you leave again, if you leave _this_ time… that'll be a mistake."

Catherine nodded, grateful but feeling unworthy of his offer. She fiddled with her keys a moment longer before following them back to the house.

Inside the house Joan shifted in Steve's embrace, silently begging to be let down. On her feet again, she raced across to the comfy leather sofa and climbed atop it, "Cat, you watch Fwozen with me?" she asked, far too innocent and unaware to think that there was anything going on in the world that was more important than watching a Disney movie.

Steve gave Catherine an encouraging nod, "You two watch. I'll get some drinks. Joan, apple juice?" he asked, watching as the girl nodded a confirmation. "Catherine… would you like some water or, you look like you could use something stronger? I could open a bottle of wine?" he felt somewhat awkward asking the simple questions, wondering if she'd changed so much that he didn't know her preferred drink. Or maybe it was the absurdity of inviting her in to watch Frozen after months apart that had him stymied.

"Do you have any coconut water?" she asked, "I should probably avoid alcohol with the pain meds I'm on."

"You got it," Steve hesitated a moment at the kitchen door, looking back as Catherine eased herself down onto the sofa and Joan crawled over to sit beside her. The movie was backed up at Joan's insistence until they returned to Elsa belting out her famous 'Let it Go' ballad. He watched Catherine watch Joan with a look he couldn't quite place, maybe regret, maybe just anxiety. He finally moved into the kitchen, poured their drinks and joined them a few minutes later on the sofa.

With Joan settled between them, Steve eyed Catherine, "Should we… talk?"

"Later," she suggested, motioning to Joan, "After the movie." Catherine figured that would be a better time, and it would give her a chance to think about what to say.

He easily agreed, not wanting Joan to be disrupted by the conversation that was bound to unfold between them. Steve did his best to relax as they watched the movie, entertained by the lively animation, the sisterly bond that remained after years of being separated, a new love blooming between two young people, and the silly antics of a goofy snowman. Joan started off sitting closer to Catherine, but cozied up to Steve as she grew sleepy, using his lap for a pillow.

"She's out," Catherine whispered just as Anna became completely frozen over.

"Hmm?" Steve questioned, following her gaze toward Joan. "Oh," he realized the girl was asleep.

Catherine reached for the remote and put the movie on pause, "You should take her to bed. She'll be more comfortable."

Steve agreed and lifted the girl into his arms, pressing her belly again his chest and kissing her baby-soft hair. Joan sighed and roused a little as he walked her toward the smaller upstairs room where he'd set up a cozy bed for her during their visit. He was only half way up the stairs when he turned back, worried that if he left Catherine on her own she might disappear again. He took a deep breath, seeing how she remained curled on the sofa with her feet tucked beneath her.

He took another step and another, deciding to trust that she'd stay.

The sofa was barren when he returned fifteen minutes later, and disappointment twisted his gut.

Then he caught a flash of movement out the back window. The door was hanging open a little. A gentle night breeze wafted into the room and he sighed with relief to see Catherine standing on the back lawn. He wanted to stay there and just watch her, to remember happier times and pretend that they were happy now. To pretend she'd never left. To pretend he'd actually asked her to marry him, and they were engaged. To pretend life was like a Disney movie in which all characters lived happily ever after.

She turned and looked at him through the window, but she made no move to join him inside.

He smiled a little. She'd come back to Oahu, back to his house. The least he could do was meet her in the backyard.

"Sorry," Steve apologized as he approached her, "Joan woke up when I got her situated into bed. I had to read half of Goldilocks and the Three Bears in order to get her back to sleep," he explained, noticing Catherine had a glass of red wine in her right hand, "And you're drinking? I thought you said…"

Catherine shrugged, "Liquid courage," she responded. The glass was set down on a low table beside an Adirondack chair, "I only had a sip."

Steve noticed something else, a picture clutched between the barely visible fingers of her casted arm. It was the same picture Joan had found under his dad's desk, the one he'd placed on the wine cabinet. They stood there facing the ocean for a while, side-by-side, silent. A sliver of silver moon could be seen through the trees, but the night was extremely dark. The water gently lapped at the shore. And, oddly enough, the sharp chortle of a neighborhood rooster drifted through the air.

"We look so happy in this picture," she pierced the quiet with her observation, passing the photo to her good hand.

"I was happy," Steve agreed.

Catherine wasn't quite sure what to make of his response. She couldn't tell if he was trying to imply that she hadn't been happy that day, or if it had been meant more as a question, "I was happy, too," Catherine let him know. But an awkward silence sprung up between them again after that. It hung in the air for a minute, which slipped into two and then three, "I can still go, if you want," she offered; her voice barely above a whisper, uncertainly settling in her heart again.

"Should you even be driving like this?" he asked, turning to face her, "A stick shift with one good arm?"

Her head shook, "No, but I manage."

"Pain meds and wine," Steve added to the mix.

She sighed, dropping her gaze to the lawn for a moment as she wondered how much more she could screw up.

"What happened?" he finally asked, reaching out to lift her chin. Steve pointed to her arm.

"Broken in three places," Catherine replied.

He grimaced in sympathy, but he sighed in frustration, "That's not… I meant, what happened?" Steve eyed her. Even in the dark he could see the struggle in her brown eyes. She seemed torn. And despite the way she kept running off on him, he just wanted to mend whatever was broken in her. "Cath, please talk to me," he reached for her right hand. His fingers wove together with hers. "I get the feeling more than relief work in Nepal went on while you were gone. Why did you leave?" he asked, "What happened?"

Catherine felt a tear roll down her check as she whispered, "Deb."

Steve swallowed past a thick lump of grief, "Aunt Deb? She, uh… she died, Catherine. Just a few weeks ago. She…"

"I know, I heard," Catherine shook her head with regret. "I should've been here for you."

He could tell she meant that, but his head shook as well, "No, I'm… for some reason I'm glad you didn't have to be here for that. It was hard to let her go. I think in a lot of ways she was ready, as much as a person can be. She accepted that it was her time and she'd had some fun while she could. I like to think I'll be that okay with it all when my time comes, but I doubt…" he took a deep breath, "The selfish part of me wants her back. But I'm glad you didn't have to go through it. I know how hard it was for you to lose your Aunt Louise."

She swiped at another tear, touched that he remembered. "I wanted Deb to know that I… but I was too late."

"What?" Steve questioned her odd reaction, "You wanted Deb to know…"

"That I did what I thought was best to keep my promise to her," Catherine revealed, seeing the curious look in his eyes, "It was Thanksgiving… I drove her out to my favorite spot on the island and… she didn't think she had much time left and she asked me to look out for you and Mary," she explained.

"So, leaving me was your way of doing that?" Steve was even more confused.

"No, not…" she breathed out heavily, "I went in search of someone who I thought you and Mary needed. I went to find your… Doris."

"Doris?" he questioned. That was about the last thing he imagined hearing as a reason for why she'd left.

"I thought having Doris back in your lives would help," Catherine tried to explain. "Help Mary get through losing Deb and maybe make your family whole again."

His head shook, conflicted. Steve loved her for thinking she could look out for them in such a way, but he didn't think Doris would ever be the thing to tie his family together again. "You should've just stayed here with us. You were all I needed to make my family feel whole - you and Mary and Joan. That's it. Doris is… I'm still pissed at her for…" he trailed off, taking a look at her arm again, "Is that how you got hurt, trying to find Doris?"

"I did find her," Catherine replied, "She's here on the island. She came back with me."

"Shit," he swore under his breath, "You… how did you find her? I haven't been able to track her down for years."

"CIA pursued me," she revealed, taking a deep breath and deciding to tell him everything, even though she knew he wasn't going to like it. "They tried to recruit me shortly after my involvement with Doris and that Mangosta business. CIA knew my Navy and Intel background and thought I'd make a good agent," Catherine watched his eyes widen, "I never told you because I knew you'd be against it, and I never even considered it so it wasn't a discussion that needed to happen. But then I left the Navy and Billy died on my watch, Najib was taken and you got hurt because you were helping me, and I… I felt scrambled and I needed a direction."

"You're telling me the CIA was your direction?" Steve asked through gritted teeth.

Another deep breath was taken before she went on.

"Several months after I found Najib the CIA persisted and I finally agreed, but only if I could work with Doris," Catherine explained.

He shook his head, but he stood there and listened, fighting down his anger.

"I blamed myself for you getting hurt in Afghanistan, Steve," Catherine sighed, "If you had died, Mary and Joan would've had no one else. So finding Doris was a way to keep my promise to Aunt Deb… and that was very important to me," she expressed, "Of course it turned into working two undercover cases before they would even entertain the idea of letting me know where Doris was. And then I took off for Kono's wedding, which was somewhat without permission," Catherine revealed. "But when they pulled me back a couple months ago they finally put me with Doris - a case in the Ukraine, which I really can't talk about." She noticed he remained very quiet as she finished up, "Basically, some thug busted my arm and beat me up a bit. Doris saved my life and then I saved hers. We finished our mission successfully. That was the easy part."

Steve stared at her, "Easy? You just joined the CIA, worked a couple cases and found Doris? Easy."

"No, there was more… a lot more, but," her head shook. "I really can't tell you, and it doesn't matter. It's over. Doris got me out. I'm done with the CIA. And she's here, but I think I made a mistake by bringing her back. She's afraid of what you and Mary will do if she tries to talk to you. Doris is afraid you'll reject her this time. And I'm afraid that means she's just going to bolt again without seeing you guys. And I almost didn't tell you she was here because of that possibility."

He studied her as he tried to wrap his mind around it all. "So you lied to me about why you left."

"Yes, but only because I couldn't tell you," she argued, "Now that I can, I am."

His disappointment over the lie was palpable, but Steve tried to focus on the truth. She was here now telling him everything.

Catherine bit her bottom lip nervously before she spoke again, "I was afraid of the same thing as Doris, about being rejected by you. Because of the lies, because I… because I know how much you hate dishonesty and I know how much I've hurt you, like she has." She took a shaky breath, "I found myself telling Doris she'll never know what could be unless she comes to talk to you. And that's when I realized I had to follow my own advice. So here I am, talking to you. That's it, Steve. All of it. Well, most of it. But the rest..."

"You can't tell me. CIA classification," Steve said, though he didn't like it.

Another silent beat passed between them. The breeze kicked up a little and the waves rolled in with a heavier crash.

"If you want me to leave now I'll understand," Catherine braved, "I'll leave you for good this time if that's…"

He closed the gap between them, pressed his palms against her cheeks and kissed her.

Catherine felt a burst of air rush out of her lungs. She'd been primed for anger, for yelling. She'd been ready to see his brow furrow, and for the veins in his neck to strain from the stress of it all. She'd even been braced for his back to turn on her. But she hadn't quite been ready for his warm breath against her skin, for the solace of his lips. And she certainly hadn't been prepared for his gentle, compassionate touch. Catherine couldn't help get caught up in him. She didn't care if it was only a last good-bye, though she prayed it wasn't.

Almost as swiftly as it had begun, their kiss ended.

Steve pulled back, catching his breath, trying to make sense of his own actions. His heart was beating a little rapidly, but he wasn't upset. He'd been expecting more anger, and some pain. He'd been ready for rejection. For the past few months he'd been imagining himself telling her off if she ever dared to return. But there was none of that now. No animosity; just a sense of calm that only her presence had ever been able to create for him. All he wanted was to hang on to her and never let go.

He ran the pad of his thumb across her eyebrow and kissed the bruise above her eye.

"That's not what I want, Catherine," he whispered, "I never wanted you to leave. I forgive you."

"No," her chest constricted, "You can't just…"

"I do," he looked her in the eye. "I forgive you."

"Steve, you don't," she protested, trying to pull away, one hand against his chest, "I left, again… I lied. You shouldn't…"

He held a hand at the back of her neck as their foreheads touched, "I know the difference between a lie and not being able to talk about a mission. I've been the one on those missions before. As for not telling me about being a CIA agent, I forgive you," he repeated, knowing they were the hardest and easiest words he'd ever spoken.

Catherine tried to protest again. She tried to find the right words, or any words. None came.

"Tonight," Steve spoke again, not letting go of her, "Tonight felt… good. It shouldn't have, but it did because you fit here. You fit watching Frozen with Joan and me. And when I came downstairs and didn't see you in the living room I got this panicky, sick feeling in my stomach," Steve confessed, "I thought you'd left. But then I had this moment where I realized if you had left again I'd welcome you back, again, and again… just the same as tonight. Because I love you," he declared, "And I've tried to move on, but it never fit right. You… you fit right. I still love you. I will always love you. And I know I can live without you, but I don't want to, Catherine."

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She felt foolish. She also felt undeniably happy. "I don't deserve all of your second chances."

"Sure you do, because your heart is always in the right place," he insisted, "It was when you went after Najib, and again when you went to find Doris because of a promise you made to Aunt Deb. I know you didn't want to leave. I could see that in your eyes. I just couldn't figure out why you were doing it anyway," Steve realized. "But I don't want to rehash the past any more. I want a future. I want my future to be with you. I want us to get married and live as happily as we can."

Her lips tried to form a response for a moment, dumbfounded by his revelation.

"I had a ring… _have_ a ring," Steve continued despite her deer-in-the-headlights look. "I got it before you left and I was going to try to make it all romantic and… I probably would've screwed up the romantic part, but… now I don't care. I'll get a new ring, a different one, because that one has too many memories of…" he smiled despite the crazy mess of emotions still fighting it out in his stomach and his head, "Mary me, Catherine. Stay with me."

"Yes," the word emitted without any hesitation or fear.

He eyed her, a little surprised by her quick response, "Yes, you'll stay or… yes, you'll marry me?"

"Both, I guess," Catherine shrugged, "Why not."

Steve actually laughed, "You know you're the only one I'd ever accept an 'I guess, why not' response from."

"I'm sorry," Catherine responded, "I just never thought you'd… a proposal is seriously the last thing I imagined happening tonight," she explained just before he leaned in to kiss her again. His approach was different, a bit wild and almost frantic, as if he was trying to save himself from drowning. Catherine understood that feeling. She wanted to fight her way to the top of that murky ocean as well. She wanted sunshine on her face; a feeling of not just trying to survive from day to day. She wanted to live.

He reluctantly broke away from her, "You accepting my proposal is the last thing I imagined happening tonight," Steve voiced, "Because I know I've done the same to you over the years," Steve realized. "I've been the one to leave, more than once. Even when I didn't leave I was usually… reserved."

She gave a small nod, "We were younger, our careers took us different places and…"

"I was scared, Cath," he declared. "I've always been afraid of taking that next step."

"And now you're not?" she wondered.

"Now," Steve shrugged as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss again her knuckles, "Now I guess I'm not scared of being scared. If that makes any kind of sense," he wondered, searching her eyes and finding a small degree of understanding there, "And I think I can probably learn to live with the scary parts as long as I always have the opportunity to do this," Steve said as his hands caressed her cheeks again and he leaned in to kiss her a third time.

Catherine allowed his kiss to take her over. Allowed her mind to shut down and stop questioning.

Allowed her heart to just enjoy the moment, and hope it would last.

000

"Unca?" Joan called out from across the silent room.

Catherine slowly opened her eyes and caught sight of the little girl standing in their bedroom doorway. She smiled to think how easily it had become _their_ bedroom again, hers and Steve's. It seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye. Their kisses in the backyard last night had quickly given way to their bodies effortlessly, and quite happily, rediscovering familiar territory. Somehow they'd managed to stumble up the stairs, not-so-quietly tiptoeing past Joan's room.

Thankfully the little girl had slept deeply. And they'd fallen asleep a great deal later, satiated and very much out of breath.

She closed her eyes again as the sound of Joan's little feet moving across the wood floor drew closer and closer.

Grateful for the soft sheet that was pulled over her, Catherine clutched it a little bit tighter as the bed depressed slightly on Steve's side. Catherine felt the gentle wobble of the mattress as the child crawled toward them. Her favorite habit of sleeping on her stomach had been hampered by the broken arm, but lying on her back gave Catherine a far better view of the child as she reopened her eyes. She spotted the girl firmly seated astride Steve's chest, two pink-heart pajama clad legs squeezing his sides. His eyes were still closed, but Catherine had a hard time believing he was actually asleep. It took all her restraint not to laugh at the adorable scene.

"Unca?" the girl reached out to gently press a finger against his eyelid. "You wake?" Joan asked.

Steve grumbled something unintelligible and shifted a little to his left.

"You wake, unca?" the child repeated in a louder tone.

Catherine rolled over to face Steve and the girl, "Joan, maybe we should let your Uncle Steve sleep a little longer."

"Too late for that," Steve growled, his hands reaching out to grasp the toddler about her waist. "I'm awake!" he roared playfully, stretching his arms as he lifted the girl up and over his head in one swift motion. Steve delighted in the belly laugh his niece let go as she put her arms out to pretend she was flying. He took their playtime a step further as he tossed her up into the air a little and caught her again. Then he swung her back and forth, her hair flying from side to side.

"Careful," Catherine reached out with her good hand in a lame attempt to catch the girl if he accidently dropped her. "Someone could get hurt."

He swung Joan around one last time and then flopped her down atop the mattress between him and Catherine. "Tell your Aunty Cat that she worries too much," he spoke to the girl, tickling her belly and causing her to squirm with laughter again. He looked to Catherine, "She's fine, just a little fun."

"It's always fun until someone gets hurt," Catherine noted.

Steve chuckled softly at her worried, but caring response. He leaned across Joan and brushed his lips against Catherine's. It was just a quick kiss, a simple gesture to convey his love and how happy he was to have her in his life again. Steve pulled back a little, one hand reaching out to caress her cheek. He noticed there seemed to be a renewed spark of life in her eyes, and her skin held more color than last night. Steve could tell she was already looking healthier and happier after being home for just a few hours.

"You look gorgeous this morning," he whispered, turning his head to kiss just below her ear.

Leaning on her good arm, Catherine lifted the arm with the heavy cast that ran from her hand to her elbow. She ran a finger along his stubbly chin and smiled as he lightly kissed her neck. She hadn't been feeling very pretty, bruised and wearing an annoyingly itchy cast, but he made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world when he looked lovingly into her eyes the way he was now. "Not looking so bad yourself, sailor," she grinned.

"Fly again, unca!" Joan interrupted.

Catherine and Steve laughed, sharing another quick kiss on the lips before pulling apart to refocus on the girl.

"Again, again!" the girl was shouting when their bedroom door pushed inward a little more.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Mary's voice was sleep laden, but apologetic as she walked zombie-style toward his bed, "I should've known my early-bird would be up at the crack of dawn. Maybe we should've put her in my room downst…" the woman stopped just a few feet inside the bedroom and blinked several times at the scene before her. She reached up and rubbed her eyes a moment, "Maybe I drank a little more than I thought last night because I could've sworn I just saw," Mary dropped her hands and refocused, "Catherine?"

"Hey, Mary," Catherine waved with her good hand.

Mary's mouth hung open a little. "What… when…"

"Surely you saw her car in the driveway last night," Steve tried to jog his sister's memory.

"No, it was dark… really dark," Mary protested, "And I might've had too many drinks," she admitted.

"Well, you're not drunk," Steve let her know as he pushed back the sheet on his side, "And you're not dreaming," he added.

Catherine grinned as she admired Steve's backside, thankful he'd taken the time to slip on his boxer-briefs at some point during the night or morning.

Steve snatched up a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on while Joan got to her feet, standing on the bed facing her uncle.

"But she…" Mary waved a hand at Catherine, "And you…" she looked up at her brother.

Steve wore a goofy grin and shrugged. He was touched yet also amused by his sister's muddled concern, "I'm hungry," he spoke to Joan as he lifted the girl into his arms again and settled her at his hip, "Are you hungry, kiddo? You look hungry. What should we have for breakfast?" Steve caught Catherine's eye, "Bagels?" he winked.

"No, pancakes!" Joan exclaimed.

He smiled even brighter, "Hmm, pancakes you say? I happen to know someone who makes pretty good pancakes… well, he at least knows enough to follow a recipe," Steve nodded, pointing to himself as he walked toward the door with Joan's legs snaked around his waist. He took a second to pause in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder to where his sister was still starring slack jawed at his fiancé, "Are you two hungry?" he asked, "Because we're making pancakes and you're welcome to join us."

Catherine smiled as she watched Steve and Joan take off down the hall after his offer of breakfast. She preferred pancakes over bagels, the latter conjuring up a feeling of jealously. She heard them laughing on the steps even as Mary was still starring at her. Catherine held tight to the sheet covering her, "Um, I'm actually not wearing anything under here."

"Oh," Mary instantly turned around, "Right, sorry," she muttered before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

000

Catherine stood in the open kitchen doorway a moment and watched as Joan helped Steve with the pancakes.

With flour dusting her pink pajamas and egg yolk clinging to her hands, the little girl seemed to be making more of a mess than she was helping.

Allowing them to have some time together, Catherine left the pancake task in their capable yet messy hands. She walked into the dining area and spotted Mary seated outside on the back patio. There was a carafe set on the table where Mary sat, and three ceramic mugs. Steam drifted upward from the mug in front of Mary. Catherine yawned and hoped it was coffee in the carafe. She also noticed the table held plates, silverware and napkins. It seemed they were set to eat outside.

She made her way to the back door and pushed it open with her left hand, not thinking, having left her casted arm out of the sling.

The mistake caused her to suck in a painful breath and quickly switch to using her right hand. Mary turned at the soft sound of distress, but she didn't say anything. Catherine shook off the pain and smiled as the warm morning air greeted her. The stone patio was welcomingly cool beneath her bare feet. She'd dressed in comfy grey leggings and a white tank top that she'd gotten out of the duffle bag in her car. Her feet were bare, though, a freedom she'd missed all the months spent away from Hawaii.

"Hi, Mary," Catherine made the first move, uncertain where she stood with Steve's sister.

"Hi, Mary? Hey, Mary?" the woman asked in a slightly more critical tone than she'd planned, "Is that all you have to say?"

Catherine sighed as she sat down and reached for the carafe and a mug, "No, but I'm not sure how to begin my apology."

"I've got it," Mary shooed her hands away, pouring the coffee for Catherine and her injured arm, "Here," her tone was much softer as she slid the mug across the table.

"Thanks," Catherine said, taking the mug in hand.

Mary sat back as Catherine took a first tentative sip of the hot coffee, "Apology for what?" the younger woman finally asked. "For doing what you thought a dying woman had asked of you? For finding my mom who's been missing again for years?" she asked, noticing the arch of Catherine's brow, "Steve told me everything while you were getting dressed."

"Oh," Catherine took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Mary, I thought maybe…"

"You thought we needed Doris more than you?" Mary easily guessed. "But you know what? That's not true," she declared, "Do I want mom back in my life? Heck yeah," she confirmed, "But the funny thing is… Steve and I… we've learned to live without her. We learned at a young age. I do want her in my life, and more importantly I'd like her in Joan's life, but I could've lived without her. And if we're being completely honest, Steve could've lived without you." Mary added bluntly, "He dated while you were gone."

That news shouldn't have sucker punched Catherine in the stomach like it did. "Oh," she said softly.

"You wanted to believe he couldn't move on without you," Mary smiled sympathetically. "He couldn't. He _lived_ without you. He would have gone on breathing and doing all the things you do to get by, but he only would've been surviving," she expressed her view, "There's a difference between living, and surviving," Mary insisted, "I know, I did it for a while after my mom… died. It's taken me a long time to get where I am now," Mary eyed Catherine a moment longer, "I see the difference in him when you're around."

"I'm sorry I ever left him," Catherine breathed out.

Mary rolled her eyes, "I already know that. He knows that. What I don't know is where my mother is?"

Catherine was a little confused by that comment, "She's here on the island. I told Steve. I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"Yeah, he did… but _where_ is she?" Mary asked, "Specifically?"

With a nod, Catherine divulged, "Waikiki, Hilton, room 642."

"Thanks," Mary replied, "If she hasn't already left I'm going to go there after breakfast and make her talk to me."

A smile crept over Catherine's lips. She gave a small nod, as if to say 'atta girl'.

Steve swooped in, Joan held at his hip with one arm and a plate stacked with pancakes in his other hand.

"Here you go, I believe you ordered the sticky toddler with a side of pancakes," he joked, passing Joan off to his sister and placing the pancakes on the table before heading to the kitchen again. He was back in less than two minutes with butter, syrup and two kinds of jam. "Let's eat before they get cold," he declared, plopping down into the chair beside Catherine. He buttered a few pancakes and smothered them in pineapple preserves and syrup, taking a huge bite to start.

Joan sat on Mary's lap and shoveled a large bite into her mouth.

Mary shook her head at her brother, "Great example setter, Uncle Steve," she admonished.

He gave a shrug, but took a smaller second bite. "So," Steve said after chewing and swallowing. He glanced between Catherine and his sister, "Everything okay?" he asked. His gaze fell to Mary again, "Because I asked Catherine to marry me and she said yes, and I'd really like you two to get along."

"You can marry whoever you want," Mary said dismissively, childishly sticking her tongue out at him.

"Great example setter," he shot back at his sister.

Catherine smiled as she watched the siblings interact. They were together and they were okay. Just as Aunt Deb had hoped.

"Catherine and I get along just fine," Mary added in a more serious tone. "As long as she stays put and doesn't break your heart again," she concluded.

"Noted," Catherine gave a quick nod, feeling sufficiently put in her place. She didn't mind at all, though. She was glad Mary had her opinions and was strong enough to voice them. She was a lot like Steve in that way. A lot like Doris, too. And a great deal like their Aunt Deb.

Aunt Deb's spirit was definitely alive and well at their breakfast table.

The four of them ate up every last pancake, and were sufficiently stuffed for their efforts.

"I am… so… full," Catherine groaned, patting her flat belly, "I won't need lunch."

"Yes, lunch," Steve replied, "I didn't think you could get any skinnier than you already were. And if you're on pain meds you need food, regularly."

She was about to protest but thought better of it. Catherine knew he was worried about her and she couldn't really blame him. She'd probably react the same way if the situation were reversed. "Okay, maybe a salad," she conceded, noticing the demanding arch of his brow, "With some turkey and…" she could see he was still waiting for more, "Croutons?"

Mary laughed at the way they so easily took up their old banter. She wiped Joan's face clean of the sticky syrup.

Joan was on the move after that, managing to climb from her mother's chair to Catherine's chair without her feet touching the ground. She settled onto Catherine's lap, big eyes focused on the woman, "Me fowgot kiss you owie, Cat," she said, leaning over to do just that. Joan placed a soft kiss on Catherine's casted arm. "All bettew?" Joan sat back and asked.

"So much better," Catherine nodded, "Thank you," she returned the gesture, kissing Joan's cheek.

The ringing of the doorbell caused them all to turn toward the house.

"I'll get it," Mary offered, waving a hand at Catherine, "You stay put, and…" she aimed her eyes at her brother, "You clean up."

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted, springing to his feet as he gathered plates.

Catherine chuckled as Joan remained on her lap, babbling about the movie last night, "We miss the end, Cat. What happen to Anna?"

"I don't know. We'll have to watch it again, won't we?" Catherine insisted.

Steve stacked the plates and tidied the table, but decided to wait on further clean up. He sat back down and listened to Joan and Catherine chatting. The two of them struck up a serious conversation about Hello Kitty and what you would say if you met Hello Kitty. Joan argued that you would have to say Hello, Hello Kitty. Catherine thought you could simply just say Hello Kitty, no need for the extra hello. Steve laughed until he noticed Mary was standing in the back doorway facing them.

He could see her face had paled and he was instantly worried, "What?"

"Mom," Mary pointed over her shoulder. "I thought I was ready, but I'm not sure if I am."

He sat up a little and glanced over Mary's shoulder. Steve could see his mother in the living room, standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was a little longer, and a bit grayer. She looked as nervous as Mary. "You still have the option to tell her to leave," Steve offered.

"No," his sister replied, "I want to talk to her. I do," Mary nodded, summoning up the courage. "Okay, I'm just going to do it. Just walk back in there and…" she turned around, "I'll talk to her. How hard could that be?" she mumbled to herself while striding back into the house.

"Do you think we should… do something?" Catherine sat forward, concern edging her tone.

"No," Steve's head shook. "She can do it on her own," he answered.

Catherine nodded, trying to think of a diversion. "So… you dated?" the question sprang to mind.

His eyes narrowed before an annoyed sigh escaped his lips, knowing exactly where she'd gotten her Intel. "Mary's got a very big mouth," Steve realized. He could see Catherine starring at him, not backing down. She wanted an honest answer. He gave the easiest one possible, "It was brief."

"I figured," Catherine sighed, "Since I was only gone a few months."

"You're jealous," Steve smiled.

Her mouth hung open, "You're pleased by that fact?" she accused, running a hand along Joan's golden hair.

He shrugged, "It's kind of sexy," Steve grinned at the way his comment made her blush. He turned his attention to Joan. "You want to go throw rocks into the water with me?" Steve asked. He felt fidgety knowing Mary and his mom where in the house talking. He needed a distraction.

Joan shook her head, snuggled up against Catherine. "No, we stay with Cat. She huwt. She no thow rocks."

Steve smiled, nodded, "That's very sweet of you, kiddo," he reached out to muss her hair and Joan laughed. His eyes locked with Catherine's again, "She's a pretty smart two-year-old, huh? I think advanced intelligence runs in the family," Steve boasted, "Not exactly inherited in Joan's case, but we rub off on one another," he chuckled.

Catherine admired how much he obviously loved his niece. "Actually, she's almost three," Catherine noted, looking to Joan, "Someone's got a birthday coming up soon," she smiled.

He was impressed that she knew his family so well, but he shouldn't have been surprised. She was family.

Steve watched as Catherine wiggled her right thumb and began to make it talk to her left thumb for Joan's benefit.

A silly chat erupted between the thumbs about how the left thumb had gotten hurt. The right thumb sounded like a scolding mother as it told lefty to be more careful. Steve smiled as Joan giggled and remained enthralled by the child-oriented conversation. He noticed the way Joan whispered something silly in her ear and Catherine's face bloomed into a cheerful smile. "Do you ever think about…" he caught Catherine's attention and nodded his head toward the little girl, "That?"

"That?" Catherine poked at Joan's belly, causing the girl to laugh, "You mean… a kid? Having a kid?"

"Yeah, would you… is that something you'd want?" Steve asked.

"I've thought about it," Catherine responded, wondering how they'd gone from mentioning his dating someone else while she'd been gone, to the possibility of having kids. "But for some reason I've always preferred being the fun aunty type. Why? Do you… ever think about it?"

He gave a drawn out nod, "Sure, I've thought about it. Just don't think I'm cut out for it."

She was surprised by that response, "But you're so good with Joan."

"Joan is easy because we mostly get to have fun time," Steve replied, "I don't get to see her much and I don't have to be the responsible one." He smiled, realizing they both saw themselves in an Aunt Deb role. He couldn't help wonder, now that they were back on track, if they might change their minds at some point down the road. But his attention was swiftly diverted from those thoughts, "Look," he motioned his head toward the window.

Catherine glanced up and could see Mary was hugging her mother. "That didn't take long," she smiled, sighing in relief at the same time.

"You did that," Steve whispered.

"No, actually…" Catherine's smile grew, "I'm pretty sure Deb did that."

Steve reached across the table and took her hand, gave it a squeeze, "Aunt Deb might've put the idea in your head, but you did that," he pointed to Mary and his mom's embrace. "You found her. You brought her back here to face this part of her life. That was all your doing, Catherine." Steve sighed as he watched his mother and sister pull out of their hug.

"Are you okay with it, Mary wanting Doris in her life?" Catherine asked, noticing the look of trepidation in his eyes.

He gave a slight shrug, "Yeah, I think so. I'm worried she'll disappoint Mary again."

"Just Mary?" Catherine prodded.

"Me," Steve admitted, hoping they were finally done with lies and skirting truths in their relationship, "I'm afraid she'll disappoint me. I want to talk to her. I want answers about Wo Fat and… everything. But I'm worried I won't know what to say to her, or I'll yell."

"Yell if you want," she offered, "Yell at me if you want."

"Is that what you're waiting for?" Steve wondered, turning his full attention toward her, "Are you waiting for me to get angry?" he wondered, "I am angry, Catherine. Don't misplace this happy grin of mine for contentment," he flashed a smile her way, but it faltered a little. "I am angry, but I'll work through it. We'll work through it. Together."

"What if something happens?" Catherine questioned.

Steve searched her eyes, "Like what?"

Mary returned to the patio at that moment. "Joan," she reached for her daughter, "There's someone important I want you to meet."

Joan happily jumped into her mother's arms, "Can I say Hello, Hello Kitty?" she asked with a giggle.

"If you want to, silly," Mary's voice trailed off as she ducked back into the house.

Steve and Catherine remained outside but watched the scene unfold through the back window. Mary introduced Joan to her grandmother for the first time. Doris reached out to shake the girl's hand, but Joan opted for a hug instead. Steve smiled to see how innocently and easily his niece expressed her love. He stood and turned away, looking out at the ocean. "What did you mean?" he asked Catherine, "When you said, what if something happens?"

Catherine moved to stand in front of him, not wanting to hide from him or his questions.

"What if my mom gets sick and I have to move to Virginia to help take care of her?" she posed, "Or what if my dad goes missing on one of his missions that he refuses to believe he's too old for? What if my good friends Andrew and Rosa die in a freak car accident and, as legal guardian, I'm left to raise their twins? What if my heart leads me away from you again because someone needs my help, a friend or an important job to be done? I'm not saying I want to leave again, but what if… what if I'm drawn away from you again?"

He sighed, "There's a remedy for all of those what ifs."

"Really?" she was eager to hear it.

"Sure. Your mom can come and live with us if she needs," Steve began, "Same with the twins. As for the Admiral, I'll just have to call him up and tell him he's being an idiot and needs to finally retire," Steve cracked a smile, obviously joking, because he'd never disrespect her father in such a way. He hoped his lighthearted response would help her begin to see how foolish her fears were, because he figured that's what the bulk of it was about. "Catherine, if you go away again, for whatever reason, I'll hate it," Steve let her know.

She swallowed a tight lump in her throat, on the verge of tears.

"I'll hate you being away from me, but I won't hate you for going," he clarified, "Because the only real remedy I can think of is, allowing you to be you."

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked.

"When you left I wanted you to stay, but I realize now how selfish that was," he admitted. "You've never tried to change me, Cath. Not once. You never asked me to quit my job because it was too dangerous. I don't want to ask that of you either. If you leave again, I know you won't be gone forever. I know you'll come back. I know you will always come back. And I'm going to marry you in between all this coming and going. I'm going to stay married to you even if there are thousands of miles between us again at some point, because I love you. I love all of you," Steve assured her, "I especially love that big heart of yours that runs off and goes on crazy missions for the right reasons, a trait I'm finally realizing you inherited from your father," he grinned, "I love you, Cath. That will never change."

Her watery smile turned optimistic, comforted by his new level of commitment, "What if I never leave again? What if we live here and we work together, and end up insanely happily married to one another?" she proposed, "And… what if we have a couple kids and I run the PTA bake sales and coach little league and we have a dog named Spot?"

"Well," Steve chuckled, "I think I'd be okay with all of that, too."

"It scares me," she looked him in the eye, "Either… both. All of it, or none of it."

He understood exactly what she meant, having already admitted as much the previous night, "Me, too, Cath. Me, too," Steve reiterated as he wrapped his arms around her, careful of her injury. "So why don't we start simple? How about dinner tonight with Doris, Mary and Joan? We can make spaghetti or anything else that doesn't require knives," he proposed.

"Dinner with Doris?" she wondered if he was joking, though not about the knives, "Does that mean…"

"I'm going to talk to her and see what she has to say," Steve gave a resolute nod, "I probably won't like what she has to say, but I'll listen. I can't say I'll forgive her, but I'll let her be a part of my life and a part of this family if that's something she's finally willing to take on."

She was a little shocked by his decision, "Really?"

"Yes, really," he responded with more conviction that he'd been expecting to feel, "She's my mom. I do love her. But mostly I'm going to give her another shot because you went after her and brought her home. You did that for Aunt Deb, for Mary and me. I'm not going to throw away that amazingly thoughtful, yet stupidly dangerous, gift," Steve concluded. He gently wiped away the lone tear that had rolled down her cheek, "Then I was thinking about breakfast tomorrow at Rainbow, just the two of us?" he gave her a wink.

Catherine chucked softly at that suggestion, "Loco Moco in a box, in the parking lot?"

"Romantic _picnic_ ," he stressed in a teasing manner, pressing his lips to hers.

"Sounds perfect," she whispered through their kiss.

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
